


Rudolph the red nosed reindeer

by Valpur



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Couch Cuddles, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Old saps in love, Oral Sex, Smut, Terrible Fashion Sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 14:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13125186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valpur/pseuds/Valpur
Summary: The movement had Hanzo stand back a little, and a glimpse of red fabric flashed from underneath McCree’s jeans.Hanzo blinked.“Jesse, what… what’s that?”





	Rudolph the red nosed reindeer

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Secret Santa gift for [@Chey-of-neyart](https://chey-of-neyart.tumblr.com/)! And it's the most self-indulgent thing ever, too. Hope y'all enjoy it, maybe over a cup of hot chocolate :3

 

 

Christmas had come and passed, and yet was not over at all. The sky beyond the window was dark, and the tiny lights hanging from the wall reflected in the black glass.

Hanzo sighed in bliss. Had anyone told him just two years ago that he would have spent a late afternoon, after a Christmas party with at least twenty merry, drunk friends, curled in his lover’s arms in the quiet shadows of their apartment, he would have laughed in their face. Or worse. But now, he was more than happy to wrap his hands around the steaming mug of hot chocolate McCree had made for him – leveraging on his sweet tooth, and no matter how full he was, Hanzo couldn’t say no to such a bright smile – and stare at their reflection.

McCree, his long legs crossed on the bare coffee table in front of their worn-out sofa, was absent-mindedly reading something on his tablet; his flesh hand rubbed ceaseless circles on Hanzo’s back and neck, every now and then crawling up to ran through his hair. The flickering lights painted his profile in gold, drawing copper sparkles from his scruffy beard and hair.

The place was nothing special – austere to say the least, and since they both spent more time on a mission than at home, there was little room for frills and decorations. The fridge was empty more often than not, the furniture anonymous and the neighborhood twice as much.

Still, as he nestled closer on McCree’s chest, Hanzo’s smile grew wider.

It was _home_. His man was here, they were safe, and they were together. And if tomorrow was unknown, they had this moment.

Hanzo blinked and took a deep breath; McCree didn’t miss it, and he looked down at him with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk.

“’s everything alright, sugarplum?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Yer squirmin’ like a worm, are you uncomfortable? After all that food at Reinhardt’s I’d say there’s more than enough stuffin’ here”, and he patted his stomach. His red flennel was indeed a bit more stretched on his middle section than usual, but Hanzo chuckled softly.

“I was just contemplating the most beautiful man on earth”, he whispered, leaning up to nuzzle his nose on McCree’s neck. The scruff on his throat was a prickly, soft thing, and Hanzo giggled in silence.

McCree picked the mug from Hanzo’s hands and placed it on the table with his tablet; with a grand total of four free hands, now they could cuddle properly. Hanzo had nothing to object to that.

“Then you should look in a mirror, darlin’…”

_Here we go._

A full year together, and even from the safety of a stable, healthy relationship Hanzo blushed fiercily at the ridiculous remark. But it had always been like this, with the two of them: hard earned, complete trust and certainty of their mutual feelings, with a side of moments like this one, of rediscover and surprise. The fire inside him burned brighter than ever, and Hanzo had never loved his life – and his man – more. Something he told himself every day.

“You’re an old sap, Jess”, he muttered, lips trembling on McCree’s pulse. The other man laughed, but the quick bob of his Adam’s apple when Hanzo gently nibbled at the soft skin under his jaw made Hanzo grin with mischief.

“An’ you love this old sap. C’m here”. The metal of his prosthetic was smooth against Hanzo’s cheek, almost warm after all the time they’d spent on the sofa. McCree gently pulled his face up, fingers sinking in the thick fall of black hair, and kissed him.

A chaste touch, at first, a sweet meeting of lips that made Hanzo melt in a puddle of contentment as he splayed his hands on McCree’s chest.

This made the cowboy laugh briefly, and Hanzo pulled back with a perplexed stare.

“Yer hands”, he giggled.

“What’s wrong with my hands?”

“Not a thing. But they’re very warm. From the mug, mh? And…”

“You talk too much, McCree”, Hanzo grumbled. He bit his lip and pushed McCree back against the armrest, half laying on top of him and capturing his mouth again. This time, McCree took Hanzo’s hands in his fist and pulled him closer, his other arm wrapping around his waist to hold him in place.

As if Hanzo had in mind to go anywhere else but here…

The first languid sweep of tongue almost surprised him, though, because McCree did it so slowly and gently it was like a mouthful of thick, hot chocolate, or the growing warmth from a fireplace. Hanzo grabbed handfuls of crumpled flannel and pressed his whole body on McCree’s, opening his lips for him and letting him explore his mouth in careful, lingering caresses.

This was something new. Their passion was a raging fire, easily ignited and deliciously violent, but in the last months something had added up to the already explosive mixture – a slower form of teasing, reserved for those rare and precious moments where time didn’t matter and they could take care of each other without worrying about a world to save.

Like tonight.

Hanzo slipped free from McCree’s grip and raked his fingernails down his chest, stumbling upon every button with purpose. The hand behind his neck clenched in a fist, and the quick, lovely burning in his scalp sent a flash of electricity down his spine. He sunk his tongue deeper in McCree’s mouth, the slick friction between them making their breaths come out in soft little gasps.

He could’ve stopped kissing him, moving on to something spicier, but why? The moment was perfect as it was – McCree’s teeth softly closing on his lower lip, biting hard enough to make it tingle, to light a fire in Hanzo’s blood, his fingers untucking Hanzo’s shirt from his pants and caressing their way up his back. McCree ran his thumb on every small bump on Hanzo’s spine, until he was back at grabbing his neck, the t-shirt rolled up between them.

Hanzo shivered, and definitely not from the cold, and pressed his thigh between McCree’s legs. Gently, just enough to make clear that it was intentional, and in response he immediatly got what he hoped for: the steady, barely perceivable grinding of a hardening bulge against his leg.

McCree groaned against Hanzo’s mouth, hands restless on his skin, down his sides and on his hips, grabbing and kneading and cradling. Mouth wide open, he let McCree suck at his tongue and lick his lips, and he didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until he opened them in McCree’s face.

Those dark amber eyes were so sweet, despite being glazed with lust in a flushed face, that Hanzo hesitated a moment. No, he didn’t hesitate – he waited. Lips tingling against McCree’s, hands resting on his stomach, fiddling with one of the too many buttons, he stared at his beloved face and took in the loving smile that trembled against him.

“Love ya, Han”, a rough whisper, a brushing of noses and an embrace that made their hearts beat as one. “Among the many other good reasons, because you taste like chocolate…”

Hanzo buried his face in McCree’s neck and laughed out loud, shuddering on top of McCree.

“I love you too, you know? And you taste good enough without need for other flavors…”

“Oh, really?” McCree’s voice dropped to a low purr, and Hanzo glanced sideways at him. There was something threatening in his tone – threatening and enticing. Oh, he adored that vibration in his words, honey and fire that swallowed any good intention at taking it easy and slow. McCree grabbed Hanzo’s ass and urged him forward, grinding against him so that Hanzo could feel his whole length throb through the fabric; that same pulsation echoed from his crotch, and he panted a bit as he rode McCree’s thigh.

“Mh-m”, he could only reply, and he didn’t even mean to. All he wanted was to have his mouth full of that tongue again, and he hunched forward to catch him again, tracing his lips with his own until they opened and swallowed him down. The kiss came from deep inside him and swept all over his body, guiding his hands over the fly of McCree’s jeans to feel the heat radiating from there. Rocking against that friction, McCree drew back just enough to whisper in his ear.

“And what do I taste like?” His teeth sunk in his lobe, a sharp, unexpected sting of pain that had Hanzo arch his back and let out a loud gasp; the second bite, open-mouthed and sucking on the side of his neck, undid what was left of his discipline. Mischief seeped through his need, and he knelt up on McCree’s leg.

“Oh, it depends…” he breathed out. Every shot of his hips, with his erection throbbing in his pants, made the grin on his lips grow more lascivious. “But you know, right now I can’t really remember…”

“And to think that you’ve been tastin’ me”, McCree sat up and sucked on Hanzo’s lower lip, rocking him in his lap until their cocks were pressed side by side, “with quite some focus for the last minutes or so…”

Hanzo shoved him back against the pillows and kissed him some more – deeper, hungrier, until their teeth clashed together and their tongues were a sloppy, slick thing between them.

And it was not enough. Hanzo peeked at McCree through his lashes and swallowed another moan: he wanted more of him. To taste and lick and devour him was suddenly more important than air or dignity – more important than anything else.

He parted from McCree with a smacking sound and slid down his leg at an agonizing slow pace.

“Maybe you should refresh my memory”, he whispered, kneeling between McCree’s legs. Hands splayed on his thick thighs, he parted his knees until there was more than enough space for him to operate, and in doing so he looked up at his lover’s face.

Reclined back against the pillows, shirt crumpled and hair tousled, McCree still managed to smirk as if he was in complete control of everything. But the way his lips were red with kisses, or his pupils blown to gaping voids of desire, told a different story.

“Help yerself then, darlin’”, McCree said, caressing Hanzo’s cheek and running his thumb on his swollen lower lip.

_Oh, you can bet I will…_

Hanzo wasted no time and dived between McCree’s legs, mouthing at his erection through the coarse fabric of his jeans. His smell, familiar and faint, went up his nose and straight to his brain, and his arousal peaked instantly. Pressing his face against the other’s crotch, mouth open, tongue desperate for the contact with skin, for that taste – a torture and a reward at the same time.

The hand cradling his face twitched, and McCree’s breath faltered.

“Babe…”

He could have kept going on like this forever, because it was teasing them both, but the hand clutched on McCree’s thigh fluttered on its own to his belt. Hanzo never stopped sucking and palming with his free hand, his erection now heavy and needy enough to require immediate assistance, but in a swift flick his fingers undid every constraint that kept him from the other’s skin.

McCree lifted his hips and squirmed, cursing under his breath to help Hanzo roll down his pants.

“Wait, just a… moment, I… fuck, I…”

The movement had Hanzo stand back a little, and a glimpse of red fabric flashed from underneath McCree’s jeans.

Hanzo blinked.

“Jesse, what… what’s that?”

Because, despite the fact that he still very much wanted to suck McCree’s cock to the moon and back, now there was a glittery reindeer staring at him with round, dead eyes. His man’s rather impressive dick, standing to its full glory under the stretched briefs, only made the creature’s face look longer and more deformed.

“Well it’s _festive_!”

And with this, Hanzo lost it. Completely, beyond salvation.

He snorted and threw his head back, his giggling quickly turning to a booming laughter that echoed in the dim lit room. He laughed until there were tears in his eyes, laughed until his sides hurt and he had to perch himself to McCree’s knee, slapping his own thigh with every wheezing outbrust.

McCree didn’t last very longer, because Hanzo, choking with hilarity and unable to breathe, heard him grunt and join him, jumping under him with the same frantic laughter.

It lasted for a handful of seconds or forever, and when Hanzo, eventually, managed to take a shivering breath and wiped a tear from his eyes he looked up to McCree and panted.

“Now can I blow you or will I find something else inside your boxers?”

“Except for the tiny Christmas tree I tattooed on my…”

“McCree!”

“Just kiddin’, just kiddin’!”, But now he was more serious, his smile sweeter. He brushed his thumb on Hanzo’s cheekbone and shook his head. “When you laugh, everything in the world is alright for a moment…”

“Because you make me happy, my love”. He lightly kissed McCree’s inner thigh – and then, despite the tenderness of the moment, his fire roared higher. He kissed his way up, and McCree relaxed under his touch until the tip of his cock bounced against Hanzo’s cheek.

He’d waited enough, and now all he wanted was for it fo fill his mouth and thoughts, to slide on his tongue and down his throat until he coudln’t breathe anymore. He grabbed McCree by the base and slowly ran his fist up and down his whole length, eliciting a strangled groan from the cowboy.

But Hanzo didn’t look at him. His eyes were all for the shiny beads of precum on the flushed tip, drippling down the slit and disappearing in his fingers. Another stroke, harder this time, and McCree whispered his name – only to stop with a whimper when Hanzo stuck his tongue out and ran it lightly on the sensitive head. Salty and bitter, addictive, and when McCree bucked up, muttering a shaking “sorry”, Hanzo let go of everything. Of finesse, mostly, because as that familiar taste melted on his tongue he felt he couldn’t take it anymore.

He opened his mouth and swallowed everything he could. And McCree cried out, a rasping, wordless sound that ended with his fingers carding through Hanzo’s hair and balling it in a fist.   
Pressed against the roof of his mouth, McCree’s cock was thick and heavy, moving slowly as the man tried not to fuck Hanzo’s throat. But there was no need for such caution: Hanzo’s fist resumed its ministrations, pumping in tandem with the bobbing of his head.

Up, until the blunt tip almost escaped from his lips, sucking it gently and rolling his tongue on the frenulum – and down, with his cock drumming down his throat and his nose half buried in the dark curls between McCree’s legs, making him growl out his name and arch his back.

Hanzo breathed harshly through his nose, but still couldn’t stop himself from gagging when he tried to take it all in. Too big, too much, and to feel his throat protest and his lips twitch as he failed to accomodate the massive girth did the trick.

It was what he wanted – to be full, to taste him, tears in his eyes and one rough hand pulling his hair and pushing his head forward for more.

Hanzo made a small strangled sound, and only years of practice stopped him from coughing. But he needed a break, he needed air so badly… but it didn’t mean he was going to give up. He let go of McCree’s cock with a loud _pop_ , but before the other man could do more than yelp and shoot his hips up, Hanzo was thumbing at the head and licking his way down the shaft, until he got to bury his face in the other’s balls.

Sucking, gently taking the skin in his lips and moving his hand in long strokes was reducing McCree to a whimpering mess, and it showed in his voice.

“D-Damn, honey, yer good – been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day, mh?” His hand clamped on Hanzo’s hair and pulled him back, leaving him with his mouth open and his tongue out, needy. “At lunch. With everyone chatting and lookin’ at us… and you were thinkin’ of chokin’ on my dick. Saw it in those pretty eyes of yours…”

McCree guided Hanzo back on his cock and brushed it on his slick lips, but kept his head bent enough to prevent him from sucking him properly.

_Frustrating_.

And McCree knew very well how Hanzo reacted to sexual frustration. It was written – he knew it – in his hooded eyes and teary, quivering lashes, on his tongue sticking out to taste him a bit. Just a bit, not enough, _but please, please_ …

“So hungry for a thick cock down your throat, aren’t you, my love? An’ lemme tell you this, yer the best I’ve ever had. The way you look at me, begging with your eyes, how you swallow me down so… _good_ ”, and he thrusted forward. A single, long movement that filled Hanzo’s mouth and soul. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, now, but it didn’t matter when McCree was sliding in and out through his lips, murmuring a long stream of filthy, adorable encouragements as he pushed his head on and on.

“And how you l-like it, mh, when you think you can’t take it all but you still want to? All that disipline put to a good use. Think you can do it n-oh, _fuck_ , Hanzo!”

He thought he could, and he did it. A deep breath through his nose, eyes squeezed shut in complete concentration, and Hanzo took him down to the base. Not an easy task, and his throat burned with the effort, his skin covered in sweat. McCree pulled back, worried at the beastly sound Hanzo made.

“Wow – that was… wow. But you don’t need to… to…”

Hanzo’s eyes shot open and he looked up at him. McCree was the picture of surprise itself, eyes wide and mouth parted, his cheeks bright red and his hair a mess on his forehead. He looked hot, yes, but also ridiculously sweet and adorable.

So he deepthroated again, with more ease, this time, and enjoyed the yelp McCree let out for him.

Good, McCree’d said. And Hanzo knew how good he could be. Sucking him off to completion would have been enough, but he felt a familiar wet stain in his underwear, and the throbbing was starting to go to his head, so he squirmed on his heels to accomodate his cock.

McCree didn’t miss the gesture.

A metal finger traced the line of Hanzo’s jaw, forcing him to focus on the man and not the task alone.

“Wanna touch yerself for me, darlin’? Gotta see that beautiful face you make when… fuck it, Hanzo, if you keep goin’ like this I… I…” McCree swallowed hard and adjusted himself on the sofa. A trace of steel descended on his face, hardening his eyes to a fiery determination. “Touch yerself”, he said again, but Hanzo was already fumbling with his own cock.

He loved it. Sometimes he just wanted McCree to tell him what to do, leaving the burden of common sense down and letting his lover guide him. Just like now.

The first brush on the oversensitive head made him cry out around McCree’s cock. He was rock hard, leaking precum in thick trails down his erection and into his fists, making his movements quick and easy.

“Just… like this, pumpkin. Keep on suckin’ me out, will you? Until I come down your throat and you can swallow it all – or on your face? What d’you prefer?” But McCree’s voice, too, was starting to sound broken. He tensed and let Hanzo work him out in quick strokes and hungry mouthfuls, and soon he stopped speaking at all. Panting, begging wordlessly, he leaned back against the sofa and bit the back of his hand.

The realization that McCree was close – Hanzo could feel it in the tightening in his balls, in the uncoordinated jerks of his hips – was what threw Hanzo, too, over the edge. He smeared precum on his cock and bucked up, fucking his fists in frantic thrusts and moaning. Tension was thickening in his guts, a confused desire for release, but _not yet_ – not until McCree told him to, and he hastily closed his fingers at the base of his cock and tightened his grip. Waiting, but without ever stopping working his tongue around McCree’s crown and up his slit, thoroughly enjoying the swollen head throbbing against his palate and the erratic movements through his lips.

Until McCree stopped abruptly.

“Han, where?” he groaned, his voice deep and flat. Hanzo stared at him, and slowly resumed his rubbing, jerking off with crazy patience.

So close, and the way McCree pulled his hair to move his head back and off his cock was almost the last straw.

“On – on my face. Please, come on my face…”

Then everything shattered. McCree wrapped his hand around Hanzo’s, squeezing it hard on his cock, and with a few last powerful strokes the low moan from his throat exploded into a growl. He arched back and his feet scratched the floor, and sobbing Hanzo’s name he came all over his face. A thick spurt on his cheek, one across his lips, and Hanzo opened his mouth to take in everything he could before his own tension snapped in his fists. He had to hold on to McCree’s leg as he, too, reached his climax. He shook and whimpered, falling forward between McCree’s thighs, and only after what seemed like long minutes he managed to catch a shuddering breath.

Weak on his knees, he sat back on his haunces and licked his lips, cleaning the cum sticking there. McCree, flushed and disheveled, stared at him in complete disbelief, a dreamy smile on his mouth.

“Woah”, he breathed out. He roused with a start, his cock still half hard on those obnoxious boxers, and rummaged under the pillows until he found a tissue that he gingerly handed to Hanzo.

Not that he really needed it, having proceeded to wipe his face clean and to lick his fingers afterwards, something that he knew McCree found ridiculously hot – and whatever made his cowboy watch him like _that_ , he was down with. Still, he accepted the offering with a grin and finished his job.

Once he was done, he crumpled the tissue and threw with mathematical precision in the trash bin.

“We should take a shower – both of us”, he suggested, but McCree was still too blissfully sated to pay him much heed.

“Love ya so so much, honey…”

“Yes, you mentioned it before. And I love you to, but…”

McCree interrupted him by leaning forward and grabbing him by his arms. He pulled a rather surprised, still wobbly-legged Hanzo to kneel on the edge of the sofa and crushed their mouths together.

“Merry Christmas”, he whispered, laughter trembling in his voice.

And Hanzo, happy and satisfied like rarely before, threw his arms around his neck.

“And a very happy new year, my love”.


End file.
